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Benvenuto nel blog della Scrivente Errante! 

Uno spazio dove conoscere una Mamma, AUTRICE degli ARTICOLI e delle RECENSIONI che troverete su questo blog, appartenente alla generazione dei Millennials di due bambine Cosmopolite, a cui spero di poter dare gli strumenti per realizzare i loro sogni ed essere FELICI! 


DO NOT DENONUNCE, WOMEN. The family cannot be run by two people because two-headed creatures are the protagonists of horrible nightmares.
In the family, the man is the one who has to make the decisions. Yes, also, and especially on when to make love.
If you ask him, it's no good. Whenever he wants, you have to be ready and shut up.
Your wedding witnesses will laugh when you confide the discomfort you have experienced: how can you not be grateful for a man who wants you, ugly as you are? Others will tell you to report it to the police, but then they will ask you not to mention their name, and they will stop you. They won't like the book you published, but they won't be able to give you a reason.
You will be alone, with your offspring, who some other woman will tell you were stupid to conceive with a man you had just met. And it doesn't matter if you say that you loved him, that you did everything just for LOVE, because they will tell you that it is not possible to love a person from a different continent, that you were asking for it.
You will have to solve this problem in the church, with the help of a pastor or a spiritual guide who will make you understand how to be in your place.
You don't have to be feminist, but feminine.
You don't have to express your feelings too soon. You don't have to be honest with everyone. They don't want your truth. They don't want your tears. They don't want your sorrows.
You must serve men. You must bow at their feet and apologise to them over and over again.
And if he kills you, you brought it on yourself. You should not have fallen in love with that person. He was too big, he did too little or too much work, you were not good enough for him.
No matter how well you do in your life, your mistakes will always be your fault. Since time immemorial it has been so. Do you know why humanity no longer lives in the earthly paradise? Because Eve, a woman, dared to eat an apple. A fucking apple.
Do you know why Penelope is better known than Lysistrata? Because Penelope not only set up a ruse to procrastinate the moment when she would have to choose a new husband, but she remained faithful to the cheating Ulysses at all times.
We are not told, however, how Ulysses died. What if he died because Penelope, once she knew how many times she had been betrayed, put a drop of deadly poison in her husband's dinner? Drop by drop, revenge is offered without telling anyone.
But why are we women? Is it our fault for being born female? Is it the fault of our mother, of our grandmother, of our aunt?
According to biology, according to science, no. It's the fault of... our father. Hold on. It's a man's fault we were born women. It's a man's fault that we can't dress a certain way and go out and have fun. It's a man's fault that when we're intimate and we say no, sexual intercourse is still consummated. It is a man's fault. It is not our fault. It is not our fault. It is not women's fault for rape.
To blame women and not help them tangibly, that is the fault of women who do not unite together as in Aristophanes' play. Lysistrata and the Greek women succeeded in accomplishing their mission: the wars ceased and everyone went back to making love.
What would have happened if my wedding witnesses had given me material support, as friends? What would have happened if their husbands had spoken plainly to the person who abused me and told him clearly: "if you don't love her, let her go free"?
To posterity the arduous judgment. When in doubt, let's not make love anymore so that I don't report any more sexual and psychological abuse.
It is too difficult to raise boys and girls in respect for others and in mutual love. A joyful love that spurs us on to improve day after day. Even animals can't do it, why should we human beings?


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